They Came Again

They came again. The whip dragging behind them like a sulking dog, muzzled by its master’s hand. Already bloodied, a dirty red trail followed, pieces of fresh flesh clumped together on the rough surface beneath. I squirmed under the strain of the rope that I swayed from. Only my wrists for support. Like a hopeless fish baited on the end of a line. I waited.

Then it came, across my back once more. The whip cracked as it gauged open an older wound and set a fresh one beside it. I arched in torment, my nerves stinging, almost paralytic for a moment. I sunk my teeth into my lips as not to scream, my eyes shut tight. More blood ran from my back. I could feel as the warm trace of my blood crept over my stone cold body. Its presence allowed me to feel alive. 

They brought the whip up once more. My eyes opened. He came. In my mind, he came. His memory so vivid. This time though, I was determined to finish it. I closed my eyes again. His face, his hands, his back. So clear, so close. He came again. His hands around my neck, the suffocating pressure upon my throat. I struggle for breath as the memory become stronger. My hands clench. It’s the signal.

The whip’s brought down once again. A mighty blow that sets deep within my flesh. I can feel the warmth from its leather exterior. Then comes the rush of blood from the site, seeping from the gashes cut upon my skin. I whimper as my back again arches in torture. My teeth dig into my lips, my tongue rolled backward. My hands clench tighter together, fingernails bearing into the skin. My toes curl backwards, my body shakes uncontrollably. I draw a final breath, a gasp so painful I moan as the bitter, arctic air stings my throat. Then finally all is silent. The blood begins to trickle down my back, tracing my buttocks, over my thighs and creeping towards my bruised legs. And finally all is over. He’s gone. I can feel him no longer. My suffering no more.